


Leather Knife

by hurluberlu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Police, Detective, Detective Castiel, Flashback, Interrogation, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, Murderer, Murderer Dean, Past Relationship(s), Police Officer Castiel, Psychological Drama, first degree murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:18:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5633095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurluberlu/pseuds/hurluberlu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, what're you afraid of Castiel? Afraid that whoever's on the other side of that mirror will overhear? Find out who you really are deep inside?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather Knife

Castiel stood from the conference table, a screeching sound ringing through the room from his chair's feet. He brought his hands up to his face, quickly running them down from his forehead to his chin.

"No! No, I refuse to do this! You don't understand what'll happen if I do!" He yelled incredulously, staring down the woman sitting across from him.

"You're the only agent experienced enough to handle him. I believe in your ability to not let him control you-"

She was interrupted by a set of hands slamming down on the table. Castiel looked around to the four others sitting around the table, a few wincing from the loud 'bang'. 

"What about her?" Castiel pointed to a red-haired intern biting the insides of her cheek. "It's a simple interrogation. She can handle it-"

His boss joined him in standing, rubbing her temples. "-Exactly Castiel. It's a simple interrogation. He is a criminal, any personal stakes you have invested with him are not pertinent. This is not a discussion, it's an order." She sat back down in her chair, letting out a loud breath as she tapped her fingernails against her chair's arm.

Castiel sighed and took a step away from the table, looking up at a board with dry-erasable-notes, barely legible.

"Dean Winchester. Suspected of three counts of murder in the first degree..." Castiel trailed off as he squinted his eyes, struggling to read the messy handwriting. "Four counts in the first degree."

He silently pushed in his chair, straightening the knot of his tie before walking out of the conference room. He walked down the hall, running into an open elevator as he looked down at the numbered floor buttons. He sighed and looked at his feet, his head flying upwards as he heard running feet nearing the closing elevator.

Castiel placed a hand between the elevator doors, watching as they bounced back open. Castiel let his hand fly to his neck, straightening his tie, again, as he cleared his throat. "I could've lost a hand."

Castiel smiled as the taller man entered the elevator, pressing the button for the floor below the one Castiel was getting off at.

"Castiel. You have to be strong. You can't let him control yo-"

Castiel waved his hand, shaking his head as he leaned against the elevator's wall. "I don't need the pep-talk Sam. He's killed four peop- _at least_ four people. He's not the man I knew. Not the one I loved."

Sam nodded and looked at the top of the elevator doors, watching the numbers slowly lower. "I'm glad you can feel that way. Because he's going to be looking for anyway to get an advantage, a _reaction_ out of you. Don't let him-"

A loud bang had stopped Sam mid-sentence. He looked to the left, watching as Castiel turned to face him. Castiel casually took his fist out of the newly-formed dent in the wall. "I know Sam."

Sam nodded and turned to the opening elevator doors. "Good luck."

Castiel straightened his tie for the last time, stepping out of the elevator and down a long, grey hallway. He looked at the doors passing him briefly, not paying much mind to any of them. He slowly stopped in front of one, _the_ one, "Interrogation Room 4".

He placed a suddenly shaky hand on the knob, turning it slowly and silently. He stepped in, keeping his back to the man in the metal chair, who let out a deep chuckle.

"Oh great, they sent another fucking officer." Dean lifted his hands as far as the handcuffs would let him, shaking his fingertips dramatically. "I'm not going to tell you I killed anyone," Dean placed his hands back down on the metal table, "You're wasting your goddamned time."

Castiel shut the door, taking a deep breath. "You did kill them."

Dean furrowed his brows, his breath quickening as the man remained standing with his back towards the suspect.

"Cas...?"

Castiel turned to face Dean, taking a few soft steps forward to the back of his metal chair. "Why did you kill them?"

Dean's eyes widened, becoming glossy as he stared wordlessly at the officer across from him.

Castiel smiled, sitting down in the metal seat. "I asked you a goddamned question."

Dean shook his head, his gaze falling to the wall to his right. "Cas... You can't think that I...I actually _killed_ these people. I couldn't even stand to... _hurt_ you."

Castiel slammed his hand down on the table, holding a open file with a DNA test inside. "Your DNA." Castiel flipped the page. "Your fingerprints."

Castiel flipped the page, looking down and choking back a tear. "Your _knife_." Dean looked down at the picture of a knife with a leather handle, the knife Castiel had bought for him on an anniversary.

Castiel closed the file, placing his folded hands under his chin. "You used the knife I gave to you. You left it behind, in some poor guy. He was sixteen Dean."

Dean shook his head. "Cas I didn-"

"-Don't. You don't deserve to call me Cas."

Dean nodded slowly, folding his hands on the table as a slight smile began to crawl onto his face. "Officer Novak. Oh, wait, excuse me. _Detective_ Novak."

Dean leaned forward his face growing ever closer to the detective's. "You've come quite a long way since we last were together. Became a big man in a big suit while you left me to rot in my guilt."

Castiel stood from the table, shaking his head incredulously while Dean stared up at him. "Ten years. Ten years and you're still not capable of any emotions other then guilt and rage-"

Dean pulled sharply against his handcuffs. "I _deserve_ some rage!" He smiled and calmly placed his hands back on the tabletop. "Besides, you always wanted me to be 'rough'."

Castiel heard the faint sound of a door closing, looking to the mirror behind him that now had an audience member waiting on the other side.

Dean watched Castiel's face as the detective scanned the mirror, looking for any sign of who the officer was. "Oh, what're you afraid of Castiel? Afraid that whoever's on the other side of that mirror will overhear? Find out who you really are deep inside?"

Castiel turned to Dean, watching as the smiled widened on his face. "I'm not the one being interrogated here Dean."

Dean looked over Castiel's shoulder, making eye contact with himself in the mirror. "Hey Officer! You want to know why the Detective here gave me that knife in the first place?"

Castiel's eyes widened as he almost leaped over the table, his hand flying overtop of Dean's mouth. 

"Tell me." Castiel looked up as he heard an unrecognizable voice over the intercom into the room. "Get off of him Castiel."

Castiel slowly removed his hand, sitting in his seat calmly as he waited for Dean to talk.

"He wanted me to cut him with it. I remember I would come home after a shift at the auto garage where I worked, tired as all hell, and he would walk up to me at the door-" Castiel looked down at his warped reflection in the tabletop, closing his eyes as he fought the images of all the days Dean was describing. "-with his cute little side smile, and his devious bright blue eyes. He would take my hand, drag me into the bedroom with barely enough time to take off my work boots. And he slipped his shirt over his head, his chest and stomach riddled with all the cuts from before. And he laid down on the bed."

Dean brought his hand up to lift up Castiel's chin, sighing when the locked handcuffs stopped him. "And he begged me to cut him again." Castiel slowly brought his head up, meeting Dean's gaze. " _This_ is your dear Detective. A sick fuck who begs men to slice his skin."

Castiel laughed and leaned towards Dean. "And you're the sick fuck who did it." Castiel brought a hand up to undo his tie, letting the red fabric fall to the floor. Dean watched as Castiel almost ripped out each of his shirt's buttons. Castiel looked down to his scared chest, tracing a single cut right above his belly button. "You remember this one, don't you?"

Dean shook his head, his eyes avoiding the cut that Castiel had pointed out.

Castiel smiled and shook his finger. "Oh no, I know you remember. This is the last one. The one that made me leave."

Dean got a far off look in his eye, staring at the mirror as Castiel began to describe the day to him.

"It was a Saturday. We were home, you were scarfing down a pizza while I watched TV. I was laying in your arms, and you looked down at me. You kissed me, and your hands started to wander, and you found that leather knife in my pocket. You pulled it out, and your eyes almost glowed." Castiel swallowed hard, watching as Dean stared through him. "'What's this?' I smiled up at you and climbed on top of you. 'An anniversary gift.' I remember how you flipped the knife over, examining the blade as I grinded my hips on you." 

Dean reached his hand out as far as the restraints let him. "Cas stop."

Castiel tilted his head, looking at Dean's hand as it tried to get closer. "This is what you wanted Dean. To ruin me." He turned to the mirror. "You already told them who I am. 'A sick fuck.' I might as well tell them how I know that you killed those boys."

Dean swallowed and nodded, understanding.

"I remember you just...laughed at me. You shook your head as I stared down at you from your lap. 'Cas, this doesn't seem like a gift for me, more like one for you.' I laughed too, tilting my head like a little girl like I knew you liked. 'Maybe.' I climbed off of you, taking your hand as I led you to the bedroom. I couldn't wait to feel the blade against my skin. I took off my shirt, laid on the bed. And you hesitated. 'Dean?' You smiled down at me, a sadness in your eyes. 'Cas... I can't. I can't hurt you anymore.' You broke my heart Dean. I grabbed your hand, the one with the knife. And I plunged it into my skin. I can still remember the ecstasy I felt while you screamed. And my eyes fluttered closed. And I woke up in the hospital. You said it was a mugger to anyone that asked. And I left you, because you 'couldn't hurt me anymore'."

Castiel started tracing over the scar again, looking down at the closed file folder. He opened it up with one hand, flipping through and taking out four autopsy photos. "Your knife stabbed four boys right above the belly button. Your fingerprints are on the handle of that knife. And your DNA was found... Inside of them."

Dean leaned back in his chair, looking up at Castiel's emotion-filled face, not sure which one to trust. "You win. I killed them. But just know I killed them for you Cas."

Castiel cleared his throat, placing the pictures back into the file. He walked around to Dean's side of the table, leaning his mouth down to Dean's ear as he stared directly into the mirror across from them. Castiel's hands went down to Dean's stomach, his fingertips running up under his shirt and gently brushing against Dean's navel. Castiel looked down as Dean's head fell against his cheek, Castiel's fingertips finding a new scar above Dean's belly button, matching his.

"You did this to them. You did this to yourself. But you couldn't do it to me?"

Dean grabbed Castiel's wrists with his hands, holding them in place as Castiel's fingertips continued to trace the line. "I didn't want to hurt you. I love you Cas."

Castiel smiled and walked away, placing his hand on the doorknob. He slowly turned his head to Dean, and with a small wink he opened the door and walked out.

Castiel jumped as the door to the left of him flew open and Sam stormed out. Castiel was slammed against the wall, the air leaving his lungs as he gasped for oxygen.

"What the fucking hell was that?"

Castiel shook his head, not able to answer. "You're a sick bastard Castiel. Who fucking makes their boyfriend slice them up and then leaves him when he refuses?" 

Castiel placed his fingertips on Sam's arm, pleading silently to be let down. "That fucking interrogation was live in the conference room. Everyone heard everything. You're getting fired."

Sam put Castiel down, watching as Castiel sunk to the ground, gasping for air. "Good fucking riddance."

Sam stormed into the interrogation room, dragging Dean out and into the hallway. Dean looked down at Castiel, whose face was red and breaths were shallow. Castiel watched as Dean smiled at him, mouthing the words 'I love you.'

Castiel smiled back. 'I love you too.'


End file.
